


‘Twas Yearning, That Bore Me

by elrondhalfelven



Series: Of Elrond Peredhel [4]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Rivendell | Imladris, Third Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29702211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrondhalfelven/pseuds/elrondhalfelven
Summary: Elrond’s musings as he searches for one long-sundered from him.
Series: Of Elrond Peredhel [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2185962
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	‘Twas Yearning, That Bore Me

Only by the cold light of waning Ithil could Elrond be seen, his draping cloak shadowed as his twilight hair; though starlight danced within his grey eyes and upon his wizened face. It haloed his head, as he led his wearying horse forth through the sloping arches, embedded within the cliff face and concealed by a thick overgrowth of entwining nettles and flowerless vines. Perhaps, had he been another, he would not have passed by thus unlooked for; the muffled sound of his riding boots upon the wetted sand beneath him had been a treacherous alert of his approach. Verily, in another Age and a different, long-sundered place his coming would have been well expected; he would laugh when he was bowed to and named Princling as a weathered hand stroked the back of his head in endearment. 

Long years had passed.

Even if the dwindling stars glimmered too brightly about him- though his begetter and sire had never before waylaid his intention- he would be seen as naught but a passing flicker of memory; of this Elrond was certain. The yearning ache that had long settled upon his heart was not known by the one he searched for, an unacknowledged presence which lingered in the shadows of his gaze. 

There were tempest flames upon the horizon; they licked at the forefront of Elrond’s conscience. He pushed them away with a purposeful shake of his head, salt whipping his face as he did so. Foreboding forcefully expelled; his expression settled to a stoic impassiveness which left no room for such a thing as reminiscence- he knew well how to achieve such a look, by now. 

Brushing long fingers against the hilt of the sheathed sword at his hip, he breathed deeply as he reminded himself of his purpose. The distinctive smell of the shores consumed him, but this time no emotion nor memory did it bring forth.

The coarse ceiling of rock had by now vanished as Elrond tarried onward, in its place only the starlight which adorned him and the vastness of the skies, its presence both timeless and archaic, overwhelmingly so. Elrond found himself suddenly feeling very lost and childlike, as though he had been stripped of the borne rationality and calm nature which had both compelled and condemned him for so very long. 

Seeking the star of his sire with a burdened gaze, he allowed himself to be comforted by the gentle glow; a constant presence amongst the darkness and disorder which often clutched at him in unforeseen moments. Yet, he knew in his heart that he would not grow contented when the stars faded, not wholly; this was not the Father for whom he had journeyed hence.

A draping wisteria, palest ivory upon deep green, lay before him now. Stroking one of the lightly coloured florets against his thumb, Elrond allowed himself a last, deep sigh before pushing aside the overgrowth; brushing it away distractedly when it followed him into the dampened cave by cascading down his shoulders. Stepping gently but with a quiet assurance that portrayed his purposeful intentions he approached the ellon who abode within the depths of the cavern; hair of ebony in likeness to his own.

“You taught me all I know about metal work. Yet, my learning was never wholly complete. Long years have passed, Atar.” The stars did not cease to adorn his figure as he opened his palms towards his foster-father, the broken shards of sword glimmering in the filtered moonlight.

“It is time now for those lessons to be fulfilled.”


End file.
